


Waking Up To You

by WeCouldPretend



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms
Genre: Also prone to flip outs when people who should be dead show up in his bed, Boys quit being so angsty, Galahad can't sleep, Galahad's lonely and just wants some love, Gallie works too hard, Immortal boys, Let me hug both of you please, M/M, Modern Setting, Mordred can't sleep, Mordred likes startling Galahad, Mordred's looking for peace, Morgause you jerk, lonely Gallie, nobody sleeps, poor boys, why the hell was Mordred a zombi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeCouldPretend/pseuds/WeCouldPretend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galahad gets a rather rude awakening one night when he comes home late from work. So does Mordred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up To You

Galahad entered his apartment building late into the night, just coming coming home from possibly one of the longest days of his existence after two double shifts at each of his jobs. He had some very long days during the various wars he’d lived through, although being in the kitchen all day equaled a war in his books. Sometimes, it felt as if he never got any sleep, that these long lonely centuries had been one long waking nightmare. But as always, Galahad found ways to stay busy, as he always had. He worked two jobs even though he’d acquired a massive fortune over the years, and probably had enough to ensure that he never had to work again. But it kept him happy, being around the bustle and the liveliness of normal people. It was one of the many reasons he’d moved to New York City.

There was so much life here, so much to be done and so much to see. He went out, met new people, tried new foods and heard new music every night. It was never enough, though, it was never the way it was when he was back home, with his family. Galahad knew it never would be, but his grief and his memories prevented his return. All he saw in the eyes of his father, mother, uncle and aunt was pity, and that’s all he’d ever see in them. He was the only one to have truly lost everything during the fall. He had lost his name, his title, his sense of being, and most of all, he had lost the one he cared for above all else. The first three had been returned by his family, but he could never again find someone like the one he had lost. So Galahad survived, he carried on. He worked in a hipster-ish little coffee joint that did poetry readings and had chess boards out during the night, and by day he managed a restaurant that specialized in thai food. He stayed busy, but forever longed for those times when he once again had his best friend at his side.

Galahad unlocked his apartment door with a quiet groan, not even bothering to turn on the lights to the studio as he set his bag down and plugged in his phone by the door. Toeing off his shoes, he continued to get ready for bed in the dark. When it came to undoing the small buttons on his shirt, he wandered over to the bed and flipped on his bedside lamp to help.

A very cross grumble came from his bed as an unexpected shape that looked vaguely human rolled over and pressed it’s face into the pillow. Galahad was instantly on the offensive, pulling out the long hunting dagger that he’d kept in perfect shape since his father had gifted it to him and moving stealthily around to see the stranger in his bed. He manouvered around to see that there was a face there, a familiar face that he’d not seen since before the fall of his world. A stunningly handsome face, more relaxed in sleep than it had ever been in wakefulness. The face of his partner-in-crime, his best friend, his lover.

Galahad found Mordred, asleep in his bed, as if thousands of years had been nothing but a blink of an eye. Shocked and overwhelmed, he did the only thing he could. Galahad pounced.

The bed rocked suddenly underneath Mordred as something began shaking him awake, calling his name and grabbing at his shoulders. He woke to the sound and sight of a frantic blonde man, half dressed, chanting his name like a mantra while asking a million questions and praying that this was not a dream.

“Galahad, Galahad, hush. It’s perfectly alright, I’m fine I swear, please, Oh for the love of the Lady quit this!” Mordred insisted, sitting up and pulling the trembling Galahad into his arms.

“How are you even here? Why are you in my bed?!” Galahad warbled, somewhere between hysterics and tears, disbelief and celebration.

“It’s your bed, of course I was in it. You don’t exactly have a couch in here darling. As for how I got here, Uncle Lancelot told me where you were, and gave me the address he thought you were at. I tried to catch you at the places you work, but you weren’t at either of the places he said. So I came here.” Mordred explained calmly, brushing his hands through Galahad’s hair and down his back in an effort to calm him. “I picked the lock to get in. Before you ask where I've been, I was a zombie slave to my Mother until the Reconquista, and then I bounced around for a thousand years or so, and stayed as far away from Britain as I could. I just couldn't bear to hurt them anymore. I thought you were dead. Then I heard some whispers from the world wars of someone like you, and I came to the conclusion that you were still alive. But I wasn't strong enough to see you yet. I still don’t think I am. I just broke all my promises to myself in coming here, and I don’t have the strength to leave again.” Mordred finished, holding Galahad with every shred of strength he had.

Galahad was so emotionally strung out at this point that he felt like screaming. Mordred, his own dearest Mordred was suddenly here in his home after hundreds of years. Eons of solitary nights and mindless days of simply trying to stay alive and stay sane, and Mordred had been gallivanting all over the earth just because he didn't feel like coming home. Because for some reason, Mordred hadn't felt adequate enough. Galahad resolved to solve the problem. Crudely, temporarily and probably in one of the least effective ways possible.

“Don’t- Don’t ever leave me alone again, you bastard!” Galahad growled, furious that he had been so needlessly lonely for so long. “How dare you think that you weren’t enough for me. I loved you at your darkest. I have seen the worst things spill from your mouth and you think that you have the right to say what is and is not good for us? For me? I have been alone, for centuries, walking in circles, Because. Of. YOU.” He shrieked, ripping himself away from Mordred and stalking off to the kitchen area to fume. Mordred quickly followed him, and wrapped his arms around Galahad’s waist.

“I’m so sorry, Gallie, I really am.” Mordred murmured, pressing his forehead to Galahad’s shoulder. “I won’t go again. I swear. Please, just come to bed. I can tell you’re exhausted. We can talk about it tomorrow.” Mordred promised, taking the Knights’ hands and pulling him back to the bed gradually before sitting them both on it and wrapping the other in his arms once again, reveling at the feeling he’d thought he’d lost.

“You are not getting away with this.” Galahad hissed hazily as Mordred pulled him down onto the pillows and tangling them together, fitting them both together on the bed just as they had fit together in their bed at Camelot.

“No, and I deserve everything that is coming. But for now, just rest. We both need it.” Mordred assured him quietly and flipped off the lights. It was the first time Galahad slept soundly since the last time he’d curled up with Mordred, hundreds of years in the past. Mordred, however, could not sleep. Not with Galahad right there, delicate and precious and warm. He’d spent enough time sleeping over the eons and he refused to waste any more of his time with Galahad on something so trivial as sleep. Mordred was content to spend the night absorbed in memories, reminding himself of all the good they’d done together before the fall and all the good they could still do together. By morning, he came to the conclusion that Galahad would be the one to give him the strength to face his uncle and king again. He was finally waking up from the nightmare he’d lived since Galahad left and it was only because he had shattered so utterly that he had found the one who was most important to him. He found his peace while waking up to the storm grey eyes of the one who had his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave comments about improvements and grammar or any problems you might find! Or prompts, I'd love for some prompts if anyone wants to contact me!


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